The Alley
by Atomic Eyes
Summary: Life is a circle. It ends the same way it began. BuffyAngel.


**Title:** The Alley  
**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series  
**Character/Paring:** Buffy, Buffy/Angel  
**Rating:** R for violence & language  
**Spoilers:** All Seasons  
**Warnings:** Character Death, Angst  
**Summary:** Life has a way of coming back around; things end the way the begin.   
**Feedback:** Please, Please, Please.  
**Author's Note:** Originally written for _joss100_ but ha It's been a long time and I sucked at finishing. The prompt was Alley and I just found this last night while writing another story.

It was fitting that it ended how it began; a scared girl and the boy - man, vampire, lover - who'd been stalking her. He ended up flat on his back with her Gucci boot pressed against his chest, that lazy smirk staring up at her. Only this time the smirk fell as the memory faded - reality set in. There would be no casual flirtation between them now, if you could say anything between them had ever been casual.

She wasn't going to go like that, her mind taking her back to a couch she'd come to loathe and a stain on the carpet that would never come out.

"You'd think I was dead already, the way they're acting," Her voice wavered and the sarcasm fell flat between them.

He pushed himself off the ground.

"Buffy ..." Angel was at a loss, his world was turning on its axis and he wanted nothing more than to cling to her desperately, beg her not to leave him.

"She was in pain," Buffy continued without meeting his eyes, "she lost herself for a while. Then we had this feeling of hope, she was supposed to be ok Angel but she wasn't – she was just gone. I don't want to go like that."

She shook her head and pressed her forehead against the brick wall, not caring about the dirt falling into her eyes.

He didn't move, if he did he'd touch her and if he didn that he'd be awash in the memories and the pain. He'd be reminded of all the good and all the bad and how much time they'd both just _fucking_ wasted. He had to be strong, he almost chuckled, how could he be strong when his lover was dying?

She chuckled for him though and turned haphazardly wiping away the dirt on her face, "I have all this power. All this amazing power. You could skewer me clean through and I'd heal in a week or two without even having to go to the damn doctor but none of that matters. This thing is going to kill me just like it killed my mother."

Her eyes clouded over as she remembered being forced to go to the doctor, remembered the way they'd told her. Gently, like she'd break. _"You have a brain tumor Ms. Summers,"_ Angel had been holding her hand, his knuckles had gone white from the grip he'd tightened. It was inoperable, she just had to wait it out. Wait till this thing killed her, as she suffered through the headaches, temporary blindness and this hole in her heart.

She'd just come to Angel; it hadn't even been six months since she'd shown up on his door and told him she wasn't ever going to be cookies but did he like Cookie Dough? She almost laughed now remembering the expression on his face. The ghost of a smile flashed across her face then disappeared; she was going to leave him - again.

She reached out her hand and he took it, pulling her impossibly close. Her head fit perfectly under his chin; the slow tide of tears began to soak his shirt. She felt helpless, like a little girl or the 16 year old who had fallen so hopelessly in love with him all those years ago. 

"I don't want to leave you, don't make me," she cried.

He just held her tighter, closing his eyes and feeling the salt of tears hit his mouth and the drop carelessly onto her shoulder.

"Please Angel; I don't want to die like that. I don't want to loose who I am, not be able to recognize the people I love. And I won't just let some random vampire take me out ... Angel please," she peered up at him.

She knew what she was asking, she knew it would destroy him but she was asking anyway. She always thought she'd die by his hands; her final death would happen as he pulled the life from her veins.

His whole body tensed and he pulled away from her just a bit, looking at her, a lot less horrified than she imagined he would be. It was then that she realized he'd thought it too, he'd considered ending her suffering the only way he knew how.

He couldn't speak though; the silent communication was voiced only in their eyes. This push/pull of love, loss and mourning until finally she could see him assent - could tell the moment he decided to agree. Despair took up residence in his eyes, defeat.

He kissed her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, her chin and finally settled on her lips. Drinking the love from her lips and giving it back to her. He swept the hair from her neck aside and kissed down her jaw, laving the mark he'd made so long ago with his tongue.

Buffy gripped his shoulders and angled her head to the side, gasping as his fangs sunk deep into her neck, her eyes rolled back in her head at the sweet deliciousness of having him drink down her life's essence.

He drained her slowly, her ambrosial blood mixing with the salt of his tears. It tasted like heaven and hell on his tongue.

Later, he sat in that alley, her cold body resting in his arms as he held onto her tightly. He greeted the soft glow of dawn with a sad smile on his face. It had ended how it began – in an alley.


End file.
